Raised by the ocean, where the waves always crashed on the shore. They beat the salt water so far into me that it runs in my veins. The sun shone so bright it made my skin dark- consequences of being raised by the sea
I was raised on a farm. While there my family raised, or attempted to raise, beans, corn, goats, ducks, tobacco and potatoes, in no particular order. But I think we were more successful at raising ourselves.
My parents raised me and my brother and I think they have done a fantastic job. I do at times question their parenting habits with my younger siblings since it seem they have grown more impatient and lenient towards them, but hey what do I know since they tell me that I also got away with many thingsas well.
Like goosebumps
lifted on your arm
or razor burn
on the inside of your thigh
rough and raw
raised and reticent
you slept
and fought
and loved
and stopped
until your heart warmed to the challenge.
The hair on the back of my neck rose. I shivered, trying to block the sound out of my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about Sanden, pictured him looking at me with that soft, crooked smile on his face, saw him walking across Broad St. to the bus stop in his leisurely gate and backpack weighing heavily on one shoulder. With my fingers jammed in my ears, tears started welling up in my eyes.
i was raised to be wholesome. truthful. Real. I was raised speak my mind but hold my tongue. i was raised to think for myself and be my own person. I was raised to hold my own. I was raised to be strong. I was raised by books, rather than by the tv. I was raised with fictional written characters as my best friends, companions in the real world.
You raised me up higher and higher inside of your head. To you I was on the highest pedestal that could ever be constructed. I was the solution to all of your problems and the healer to all of your wounds. All of them before me could never compare to the grandeur status I possessed. None had ever been so kind, none had ever been so honest, none had ever been so intriguingly strange. Beneath my skin a desire lay that I could not control. A desire that fueled me to believe that I was fit to stand on that pedestal. You said you accepted me with all my imperfections, all my flaws, and all of my being. But I don’t want to stand on that pedestal, not because I am not fit but because you made me think that I did. Glimpses of the truth flashed across my eyes, glimpses of my path. A path that could not be done on that pedestal. Because if I had chosen to stay on that pedestal I wouldn’t have been able to move. I did not want to be carried down my path. I did not want any help. I told you all of this. My nature to be the dangerous and tarnished unwanted soul. You chose not to believe. Instead you held out your hand, I took a step off the pedestal and held my hand as we walked down our path.
I was raised by a loving family who have gone through many problems but somehow have brought me to develop the resilience necessary to take on life’s greater challenges, I have never been prouder.
I was born and raised a Filipino. Like many other Pinoy denizens though, while growing up, I was exposed to western ways. This doesn’t mean though that I have completely forgotten my roots. I may be a fusion of eastern and western practices but this has not diminished my being Filipino at all.
i raised a child raised a baby raised the roof rooftops to the sky jump to the sky to the stars to the air to the start raise high do it now fast roof run hide jump i was rasied to believe in the power of love
I raised the curtain a little, and let the sunlight into the room. My son cried out, his eyes taking in that wonder for the first time. His life had begun shortly after midnight.
He stood, blazing and blindingly radiant in front of her. His eyes glowed. A man born again. A lost cause given new hope. A phoenix raised from the ashes.
i was raised to kick up dust not give a fuck not live on luck and to give up trust or honetstly just not to give up and live up to the hype only i put on myself and if my health may fall through it all i push through to the top and at the top ill be god damned if i ever drop but all i got is ambition and little to much wishin hopin that i can be dope with what i cook up in the kitcken and ill get there with the wisdom that he granted me damn it see why can this thing called talent be so damn distracting with taking advantage of the opportunities that may arise i dont and i dont know why im acting to writing its exciting and fighting my limits is what makes continue to write..
There was nothing left to say about the matter. She did what she thought best and what she was raised to believe, she believed. It didn’t matter what they said or what they felt because it wouldn’t change a single thing. She was right.
I was raised Bapticostal. Learned a different form of faith, religion and spirituality in time,. Shaman. Buddhist trappings, pun intended. The center is within, no so much without.
i was raised in a small town where everybody knows eachother. I think that it matters where you live in the way that every person is different because of this.
He was raised with love in his life. Although he never knew to love until she came along. He grew up in a small town outside of New Castle, and she somewhere in America. They met at a soccer camp. He traveld
I was raised in a small town, in Massachusetts. I remember the most, the leaves and the colors during the fall. Watching them change and grow old, funny how they do this every year. Never anything new or different for them, and yet every year the diligently do the same thing. A ritual or a routine that never ends…
He raised the sun onto its pedestal at the top of the cathedral, and stepped back to admire his work. The start shone bright red, illuminating all its surroundings.
Born and raised, grown and grazed, champion of baseball in the olden days. Shovel in hand, banjo in a band, manual labor plus accountant’s shorthand. Tried many things, wore many rings, all from girls with many different flings. Swung on a tire, started a fire, became a kid again just before I retired. Read a thousand books, caught an old babe’s looks, had a son at seventy-five, and what energy that took.
I was raised in a small town, just outside a big ole city.
Nobody really remembers much about this tiny place.
Just that it is another pin-point on a map.
Maybe that’s all we humans are, too.
Just pin-points.
We should change that and make ourselves into something more….something better.
We should change the pin-point scenario into a boulder sitting on a map.
We should make it memorable.
I was born and raised in England and I have raised my own beautiful children on the beautiful shores of New Zealand. They will one day raise their children in a location of their choice and give them roots and wings and I have done so with them.
I was raised well. And then my mom left, but up until then, my life was pretty much perfect. I had love, I had friends, and I had family. Once upon a time, life was perfect, but then the queen of my heart turned into the monster parents tell their children about at night.
I was raised in Guatemala, just like my dad, we were noth born and raised in Guatmela City, unlike my mom, ´cause she was raised here in Panama, I really like the way my parents have raised me, and I will raise my kids like that someday.
I was raised in Georgia as a southern girl. Actually, I wasn’t really raised, I spent my childhood scraping knees and clmbing trees and wrestling the little boys next door. I didn’t go to school. I was barely homeschooled. I learned by myself. And now I’m studying pre-med. Who would’ve thunk.
I love the way I was raised. It taught me exactly how I want to raise my own children. I’ve come to the understanding, though, that my children will probably fall under the same demise that I did, and so it will go on for generations. For my mother probably decided against her mother’s will to raise me as I was raised, and no I have grown to love it and hate it in perfect harmony.
she loved the smell and the feel and the look of blank paper. she raised her eyes from the sheet of white in front of her and breathed a happy sigh. the sky outside her window panes was foggy, with gray clouds and silver linings and a bright cerulean blue that peeked out from between the swathes of white. her whole world was here: encapsulated in a heart of content, in shifty stormy skies and the anticipation of petrichor and the faded breathless beauty of open air and freedom.
she looked back at that paper, closed her eyes. picked up her pen. she was prepared to write.
She was born here, she was raised here. This? This was the place she had decomposed. She had the demon children who took over after she was a mound of ash. They broke the chairs, they burned the curtains. Smoke raised to the skies above. The demon children held up their clawed hands to the blackened sky. Their snarled teeth reflected the yellow of the fire. They had raised above the old woman and her abode.
I was raised in the best place to be raised – the country. I feel cheated, though, because I never really wanted to leave, so when I knew I had to, when I knew it was time to, my heart broke. I can’t put it back together again until I’m close enough to hear the fields and hills and mountaintops calling my name again, and it’s been a while.
I walked out on him. He yelled after me; I heard him through the closed door. His why’s echoed against my skull, and I shook my head numbly. “Because I was raised better than that,” I muttered to the rain. He would never hear me say that because I would never let him.
She watched the girls run around the field and smiled proudly, thinking about how she had practically raised them for the past 4 years. She had done pretty well, she thought. She had succeeded as a headmaster and the girls had grown to be wonderful young women.
I was raised in Guatemala city, Guatemala, and I miss it very much. My dad, Luis Pedro Samayoa was also raised in Guatemala, but my mom was raised here in Panama. I like the way my parents raised me, they are very good parents and I´m very blessed.
She was raised in high society and acted like it. Kelly knew that if she was to ever go against her family’s wishes, then things would not be pretty for her. She had witnessed first-hand the physical and psychological damage they had done to Kelvin, her brother, and did not want the same thing to happen to her.
Kelly was no where near as brave as her brother had been. She did not stand against her family’s horrendous actions as he did, even though she had promised him, on the night of his death–indeed, even the very hour–that she would be stronger. Kelly was a liar.
I was raised to be better than this but standards are just so high and I’m sick of everything. This world threatens to consume me in its hellish flames.
She was raised in a family of no morals. She never looked back into the past; nor did she ever feel the desire to do as such. For her, life was simply a continuation onward: an expedition into a world where she could perhaps escape the confines of all she had known in a truly astonishing way.
raised me up
caring for me
loving me
but no longer
there is now an empty hole where you should be
there is now a black hole
a dark crevice
and a lot of rage
red and black bleeding together
forevermore
Raised by the ocean, where the waves always crashed on the shore. They beat the salt water so far into me that it runs in my veins. The sun shone so bright it made my skin dark- consequences of being raised by the sea
I was raised on a farm. While there my family raised, or attempted to raise, beans, corn, goats, ducks, tobacco and potatoes, in no particular order. But I think we were more successful at raising ourselves.
My parents raised me and my brother and I think they have done a fantastic job. I do at times question their parenting habits with my younger siblings since it seem they have grown more impatient and lenient towards them, but hey what do I know since they tell me that I also got away with many thingsas well.
Like goosebumps
lifted on your arm
or razor burn
on the inside of your thigh
rough and raw
raised and reticent
you slept
and fought
and loved
and stopped
until your heart warmed to the challenge.
The hair on the back of my neck rose. I shivered, trying to block the sound out of my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about Sanden, pictured him looking at me with that soft, crooked smile on his face, saw him walking across Broad St. to the bus stop in his leisurely gate and backpack weighing heavily on one shoulder. With my fingers jammed in my ears, tears started welling up in my eyes.
I was born in Iowa, raised in Kansas, and I am not a farmer. So shut up.
…
Raisins.
() ()
=(‘ – ‘)=
( ) Bunny.
i was raised to be wholesome. truthful. Real. I was raised speak my mind but hold my tongue. i was raised to think for myself and be my own person. I was raised to hold my own. I was raised to be strong. I was raised by books, rather than by the tv. I was raised with fictional written characters as my best friends, companions in the real world.
You raised me up higher and higher inside of your head. To you I was on the highest pedestal that could ever be constructed. I was the solution to all of your problems and the healer to all of your wounds. All of them before me could never compare to the grandeur status I possessed. None had ever been so kind, none had ever been so honest, none had ever been so intriguingly strange. Beneath my skin a desire lay that I could not control. A desire that fueled me to believe that I was fit to stand on that pedestal. You said you accepted me with all my imperfections, all my flaws, and all of my being. But I don’t want to stand on that pedestal, not because I am not fit but because you made me think that I did. Glimpses of the truth flashed across my eyes, glimpses of my path. A path that could not be done on that pedestal. Because if I had chosen to stay on that pedestal I wouldn’t have been able to move. I did not want to be carried down my path. I did not want any help. I told you all of this. My nature to be the dangerous and tarnished unwanted soul. You chose not to believe. Instead you held out your hand, I took a step off the pedestal and held my hand as we walked down our path.
I was raised by a loving family who have gone through many problems but somehow have brought me to develop the resilience necessary to take on life’s greater challenges, I have never been prouder.
I was born and raised a Filipino. Like many other Pinoy denizens though, while growing up, I was exposed to western ways. This doesn’t mean though that I have completely forgotten my roots. I may be a fusion of eastern and western practices but this has not diminished my being Filipino at all.
i raised a child raised a baby raised the roof rooftops to the sky jump to the sky to the stars to the air to the start raise high do it now fast roof run hide jump i was rasied to believe in the power of love
I raised the curtain a little, and let the sunlight into the room. My son cried out, his eyes taking in that wonder for the first time. His life had begun shortly after midnight.
He stood, blazing and blindingly radiant in front of her. His eyes glowed. A man born again. A lost cause given new hope. A phoenix raised from the ashes.
i was raised to kick up dust not give a fuck not live on luck and to give up trust or honetstly just not to give up and live up to the hype only i put on myself and if my health may fall through it all i push through to the top and at the top ill be god damned if i ever drop but all i got is ambition and little to much wishin hopin that i can be dope with what i cook up in the kitcken and ill get there with the wisdom that he granted me damn it see why can this thing called talent be so damn distracting with taking advantage of the opportunities that may arise i dont and i dont know why im acting to writing its exciting and fighting my limits is what makes continue to write..
There was nothing left to say about the matter. She did what she thought best and what she was raised to believe, she believed. It didn’t matter what they said or what they felt because it wouldn’t change a single thing. She was right.
i lift up to a hire place, beyond myself> what will you see in me, what will you perceive?
I was raised Bapticostal. Learned a different form of faith, religion and spirituality in time,. Shaman. Buddhist trappings, pun intended. The center is within, no so much without.
i was raised in a small town where everybody knows eachother. I think that it matters where you live in the way that every person is different because of this.
He was raised with love in his life. Although he never knew to love until she came along. He grew up in a small town outside of New Castle, and she somewhere in America. They met at a soccer camp. He traveld
I was raised in a small town, in Massachusetts. I remember the most, the leaves and the colors during the fall. Watching them change and grow old, funny how they do this every year. Never anything new or different for them, and yet every year the diligently do the same thing. A ritual or a routine that never ends…
He raised the sun onto its pedestal at the top of the cathedral, and stepped back to admire his work. The start shone bright red, illuminating all its surroundings.
Born and raised, grown and grazed, champion of baseball in the olden days. Shovel in hand, banjo in a band, manual labor plus accountant’s shorthand. Tried many things, wore many rings, all from girls with many different flings. Swung on a tire, started a fire, became a kid again just before I retired. Read a thousand books, caught an old babe’s looks, had a son at seventy-five, and what energy that took.
I was raised in a small town, just outside a big ole city.
Nobody really remembers much about this tiny place.
Just that it is another pin-point on a map.
Maybe that’s all we humans are, too.
Just pin-points.
We should change that and make ourselves into something more….something better.
We should change the pin-point scenario into a boulder sitting on a map.
We should make it memorable.
I was born and raised in England and I have raised my own beautiful children on the beautiful shores of New Zealand. They will one day raise their children in a location of their choice and give them roots and wings and I have done so with them.
I was raised well. And then my mom left, but up until then, my life was pretty much perfect. I had love, I had friends, and I had family. Once upon a time, life was perfect, but then the queen of my heart turned into the monster parents tell their children about at night.
I was raised in Guatemala, just like my dad, we were noth born and raised in Guatmela City, unlike my mom, ´cause she was raised here in Panama, I really like the way my parents have raised me, and I will raise my kids like that someday.
I was raised in Georgia as a southern girl. Actually, I wasn’t really raised, I spent my childhood scraping knees and clmbing trees and wrestling the little boys next door. I didn’t go to school. I was barely homeschooled. I learned by myself. And now I’m studying pre-med. Who would’ve thunk.
I love the way I was raised. It taught me exactly how I want to raise my own children. I’ve come to the understanding, though, that my children will probably fall under the same demise that I did, and so it will go on for generations. For my mother probably decided against her mother’s will to raise me as I was raised, and no I have grown to love it and hate it in perfect harmony.
she loved the smell and the feel and the look of blank paper. she raised her eyes from the sheet of white in front of her and breathed a happy sigh. the sky outside her window panes was foggy, with gray clouds and silver linings and a bright cerulean blue that peeked out from between the swathes of white. her whole world was here: encapsulated in a heart of content, in shifty stormy skies and the anticipation of petrichor and the faded breathless beauty of open air and freedom.
she looked back at that paper, closed her eyes. picked up her pen. she was prepared to write.
Interesting how the sun got raised up, isnt it? What? I said isnt it fascinating! It rises up not “raised”. How do you know it? I stood corrected.
She was born here, she was raised here. This? This was the place she had decomposed. She had the demon children who took over after she was a mound of ash. They broke the chairs, they burned the curtains. Smoke raised to the skies above. The demon children held up their clawed hands to the blackened sky. Their snarled teeth reflected the yellow of the fire. They had raised above the old woman and her abode.
I was raised in the best place to be raised – the country. I feel cheated, though, because I never really wanted to leave, so when I knew I had to, when I knew it was time to, my heart broke. I can’t put it back together again until I’m close enough to hear the fields and hills and mountaintops calling my name again, and it’s been a while.
I walked out on him. He yelled after me; I heard him through the closed door. His why’s echoed against my skull, and I shook my head numbly. “Because I was raised better than that,” I muttered to the rain. He would never hear me say that because I would never let him.
She watched the girls run around the field and smiled proudly, thinking about how she had practically raised them for the past 4 years. She had done pretty well, she thought. She had succeeded as a headmaster and the girls had grown to be wonderful young women.
I was raised in Guatemala city, Guatemala, and I miss it very much. My dad, Luis Pedro Samayoa was also raised in Guatemala, but my mom was raised here in Panama. I like the way my parents raised me, they are very good parents and I´m very blessed.
She was raised in high society and acted like it. Kelly knew that if she was to ever go against her family’s wishes, then things would not be pretty for her. She had witnessed first-hand the physical and psychological damage they had done to Kelvin, her brother, and did not want the same thing to happen to her.
Kelly was no where near as brave as her brother had been. She did not stand against her family’s horrendous actions as he did, even though she had promised him, on the night of his death–indeed, even the very hour–that she would be stronger. Kelly was a liar.
But no more.
I was raised to be better than this but standards are just so high and I’m sick of everything. This world threatens to consume me in its hellish flames.
From the dead. The last word. Cloth and cheese. Harmony. Goats running. Ramps made in the springs.
She was raised in a family of no morals. She never looked back into the past; nor did she ever feel the desire to do as such. For her, life was simply a continuation onward: an expedition into a world where she could perhaps escape the confines of all she had known in a truly astonishing way.